Drowned In All My Senses
by Chick'llDanceInTheFlame
Summary: A random Broadway reference. That, and the addition of a new sarcastic presense in his life, makes Ryan start to rethink not only everything he's ever done, but everything he believes in. Premusical, AU.
1. That's What You Get: Friendship

Ryan threw his books down, and laid down in the middle of the cold stage floor. In his hand was a beautiful, almost brand-new, digital video recorder that supposedly could make anything appear to be straight out of a movie. He lined up his target shot perfectly and pressed play. Soon the device started picking up images of the rafters and lights that hung above his head. After a while, he pushed stop and the camera quit recording. Ryan smiled to himself as he fiddled with the settings some more, and made the replay of the video go from black and white, to negative, to blue then purple, and then back to normal again. Anyone who knew him knew he was very easily amused, and right now he was too distracted to notice that he was no longer in the auditorium alone.

"Hey Ryan," a cheerful voice said out of nowhere.

No response.

"Earth to Ryan."

Ryan didn't hear them, and kept on messing around with the camera.

"Ryan," the guy said again.

The boy on the stage had just had the video start playing as if it where on fire.

"_Ryan_!"

This time the voice was loud enough to shake Ryan completely out of his state.

"_Huh, what_?!" he exclaimed, popping up bewildered, looking for the source to the command. His eyes came to rest on his best friend, Troy, standing in the middle of the theatre.

"Paranoid, much," he laughed at him.

"Asshole, much," Ryan said, scooting to meet him at the edge of the stage.

"Yeah, basically," he said, throwing his bag down and hoisting himself up next to Ryan.

"Well at least you're blunt," Ryan said, holding up the camera and starting to film the basketball star.

_BRRRRRRRRRRING!!!! __The bell rang, but it was just a warning__. _Ten minutes until first period.

"What are you doing?"

"Oh, nothing," Ryan said casually. "Just, messing with this stupid camera my Dad got me."

"Why'd he get you that?" Troy inquired as he timidly avoided being filmed.

"Well, apparently he actually listened to me when I asked him for it," Ryan said.

"Wow, that's rare," Troy joked.

"Yeah, tell me about it," Ryan said, zooming in closer on Troy's face.

"Must you do that," Troy asked finally.

"Why not?"

"Well," Troy said, putting his hand over the camera lens. "It's rude."

"Awww," Ryan said, twisting out of his hold. "Is big, bad basketball star a little camera shy?"

"No," Troy said, defensively.

Ryan smirked, and picked up a pen that was lying near by.

"Well then, prove it," he said, shoving the makeshift microphone in his friends face.

"How?"

"_Mr. Bolton, Mr. Bolton_, may I ask you a few quick questions?" Ryan said like a panicked reporter.

"Oh boy, here we go," Troy said, turning to accept his challenge. "It's better than ignoring you."

"Mr. Bolton," Ryan said, getting into character, "what is your opinion on the current musical being produced here at East High, starring, well, you?"

"Are you kidding me?" Troy exclaimed. "I'm playing a freaking duck."

"Who's actually a swan," Ryan said keenly.

"Yeah, whatever, I get picked on by sixth graders."

Ryan rolled his eyes.

"Do you have any comments on the beautiful young lady playing your love interest?" he moved on.

"You mean that little freshman girl that is slowly developing an obsession for me? Please."

"Be nice, man, she's young," Ryan insisted.

"She's falling for the role I'm playing."

"Troy, do you realize how lucky you are to be _in_ a lead role? In _this_ high school?"

"Yes, I do, but it's just that it's such a cheesy and little-kid kind of show," he said. "I mean there are so many edgier, funnier parts out there that I'd die to play. Like your part, dude. I'd _kill_ to be that cat."

"Oh yes, and the fact that I get to seduce Martha Cox on a couch is a _big _perk, let me tell you," Ryan laughed.

Troy chuckled too.

"Yeah, but my point, why is Mrs. Darbus giving us something to do that only elementary school kids will like?"

"Because she has the powers at be to adhere to," Ryan said dismally.

"What do you mean by that?" Troy asked.

Ryan sighed, and lowered the camera down. He switched the power button off.

"What'd you do that for?" Troy asked again.

"Because if this conversation is found out about," Ryan explained. "I might never be able to participate in a production here at East High ever again."

"Why?"

"The principal of this high school has been keeping Mrs. Darbus on a tight leash for years," he started. "They know that she'd like for us to be doing those crazy, insane, unorthodox shows, and it scares them because they're trying to keep up an image of this school being, you know, calm, sweet, and innocent."

"Calm, sweet, and innocent?" Troy laughed. "This school?"

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Ryan said, smiling. "There can be kids doing drugs in these very halls, but if we ever decide to do RENT for a spring production, they freak."

"That's ridiculous," Troy stated.

"Tell me about it," Ryan said. He sighed again.

"Dude, could you imagine that?" Troy said, after a while.

"Imagine what?"

"Us doing RENT," he grinned. "That'd be like the best production of that show ever."

"Why?"

"Because we're like tailor-made for it," he said. "I mean think about it."

"I'm still confused," Ryan said.

"Oh, come on, Ryan, don't tell me you've never casted this show in your head before with the people we have in this theatre department," Troy called him out.

"Well…" Ryan said, fiddling with his feet.

"Gotcha on that one."

"Ok, Mr. Casting Director," Ryan said, putting the camera up again. "Hand out the parts."

"Alright, then. Well, for starters, you would obviously be Mark," he said, implying the device in his friend's hands.

"Bite me," Ryan sneered.

"It's true," Troy insisted.

"Close-up on Troy Bolton, the lunatic."

"Hey, I hand out the roles, you don't question them,_ ok_," Troy said, mocking his new 'position.'

"Whatever," Ryan said. "Go on."

"Taylor's smart and liberal," Troy continued after a moment of thought, "so she's obviously Joanne. Zeke could be Benny because he's so pigheaded, and that means the role of Collins goes to Chad. Not much of a stretch, I say, he drinks like a camel, if you know what I mean. The role of Angel will go to Jason—"

"Wait, whoa, whoa…" Ryan cut him off. "I thought I was the only person in this school who was ever willing to risk his sexuality in that way. I doubt we're going to get basketball man Jason to don a pair of heels and a wig."

"Halloween…" Troy said, "Last year."

Ryan cocked an eyebrow.

"You don't want to know," Troy said.

"No, I _really_ don't," Ryan, shaking his head.

"So, I'm guessing we're giving Sharpay the role of Maureen," Ryan said, trying to contribute to Troy's craziness.

"Actually, you may want to stop yourself on that," Troy said.

"Why?" Ryan asked.

"Mark and Maureen," Troy said, insinuating something.

"So?"

"Ok, you of all people, who know this story better than I do, should know that Mark and Maureen have a history."

"Oh, gosh," Ryan exclaimed in disgust.

"Yeah, I don't think you want to go incestuous on anyone's ass for the sake of authenticity."

"Oh, jeez."

"Eh, it happens," Troy reassured him.

"Ok, well then who are you playing, Golden Boy?" Ryan asked, picking at his friend.

"Roger," Troy said.

"And why is that?" Ryan asked.

"Because Roger and I are similar in more ways than anybody else is to their character," Troy said, looking down at the empty rows of chairs in front of him.

Ryan zoomed in on his friends face again, this time without his knowledge.

"What ways?" he inquired, though he had a feeling why.

"We're both guys who used to be on top of the world," Troy said, simply. "We were worshiped by many until we both hit our downfall. We partied too much, lived too much, and didn't realize how it was affecting the people around us. The slightest mistake of not being safe hit us both, and we both ended up losing ones that we loved."

Ryan shut off the camera.

"Now granted, his loss was a lot worse than mine. I mean, come on, she died," Troy said. "But still, it hurts just the same."

"I'm guessing that Sharpay is getting the title of April," Ryan said, not looking his friend in the face.

"Yeah," Troy drifted off, "she can take a backseat during this one."

"You know, Troy, Roger was addicted to heroin," Ryan tried to reassure him. "You just had a little problem with alcohol. That doesn't mean that you 're like him at all."

"I know that, but that little problem with alcohol almost made me lose my life and my future and everything that had been good in my life. Not only my life, but your life too."

"Troy it was an accident," Ryan stated.

"Come on, a deadly accident. Ryan, don't lie to me, I know you're still getting migraines."

"Troy, it wasn't your fault, it was mine," Ryan said. "I should've taken the keys out of your hands."

"Don't blame yourself," Troy pleaded. "It was my mistake, and I've paid the price."

"I know Sharpay still means a lot to you, but wallowing in your self-pity is not going to bring her back." Ryan grabbed his friend by the shoulders. "And _newsflash,_ you're not the only one who's paid a price."

"I know," Troy said, taking a deep breath. "I know. And who said I was wallowing?"

"Got me, are they crazy?" Ryan joked with him. Troy laughed, finally snapping out of his little emo moment.

_BRRRRRRRRRRRRING!!!! _

"Time for class," Ryan said as the loud noise rang through the auditorium. "Did you study for that quiz in Mr. Barcus's?"

"Nope," Troy said, slipping off the stage.

"Shocker," Ryan said, doing the same. "Hey, I can I ask you one more question?"

"Sure," Troy said, picking his bag up.

"If Sharpay isn't right for it, then who is our Maureen?"

Troy stopped while trying to put his backpack back on.

"I don't know," he said. "I guess you'll have to find her."

"Me?" Ryan said. "Why me?"

"Because, Marky boy, you're the narrator. It's your story. Finish it up."

He gave him a pat on the shoulder, and headed out the door. Ryan wasn't going to let him get away that easy.

"Oh no, you are not dumping this on me, Mr. Center-of-the-Whole-Story!" Ryan yelled after him.

"Yes I am," Troy replied back, pumping up his arms, edging Ryan to bring it on. "You going to stop me?"

The last comment hit him hard as Ryan tackled him to the floor.

There was such a great thing about these two being friends. Their own individual groups were aware of a friendship between the two, but not to the degree to which it actually was. They talked every day, normally meeting before school like this, and they then carpooled home each day. There might be drama going on with their separate groups, but at the end of the day, they had each other to vent to or to blow off steam. A rock, a sword, a shield, whatever it was, there relationship gave then that security. They were there for each other to be the best friend each needed. Past or present. Plus, the difference in personalities usually provided them some with some pretty good entertainment. But no matter how much they tried to avoid it, their friendship had definitely had not been the same since the last time a sip of liquor had passed both of their lips.

* * *

Ryan and Troy brushed themselves off and exited the auditorium just as the stream of kids was slowing to a drip. Before they took two steps, an eccentric mess of a man bum-rushed them, along with a sudden regret of poking around in the theatre for too long.

"Evans, Bolton, good," Mr. Durb, their guidance counselor, said looking down at the papers in his shaking hands. He was speaking in abbreviated sentences. His shirt was crumpled and he obviously hadn't shaved in a few days. The poor man hadn't adjusted to his new position at a 6,000-kid high school just yet.

"Um, new students. One senior, one junior. You guys are all I have," he spoke quickly, handing them both pieces of paper. "Here are their schedules and locker combos. Show them around, blah, blah, blah, you know the drill."

"Wait, do you want us to give them the full tour or just a locker lesson and bolt?" Ryan asked as he hurried off. He didn't notice the what-the-fuck look Troy was giving him.

"Just, be done by the end of the period," Mr. Durb said over his shoulder. The boys looked at each other as if they'd just seem UFO.

"Locker lesson and bolt?" Troy questioned. "Do you want me to fail class?"

"What?" Ryan asked. "Was I the only one who paid attention during that 'Citizenship Towards Meeting New People' assembly?"

"Um, yeah."

"Whatever," Ryan said, shaking his head. "Hey, look on the bright side. We _get out_ of Barcus."

"Yeah, well, I'm only doing this on one condition," Troy said.

"And what's that?" Ryan asked, starting down the hall.

Troy reached over his shoulder and snatched the paper from Ryan's hand.

"I get the senior," he said, waving his prize in front of Ryan's face. Ryan gave him his own variation on the what-the-fuck look.

"You know," Troy smiled, "in case she's hot."

"We both know who wears the pants in this friendship," Ryan said, grabbing Troy's paper, and turning and heading toward the office.

* * *

AN: Hey guys. I haven't really posted anything in a while, but I just figured it was time for me to get back to this story in particular. I kind of updated this chapter a little bit, and am posting another one. And for those of you who haven't read this already, yes, there area a lot of heavy RENT references in the beginning. I believe in the parallels I drew, so just go with it if you haven't seen it or heard of it. And if you haven't, you should (I'm two shows and counting, whata you got?)

Now, the musical they're talking about in the beginning is actually, not like they say, a good show to watch. It's called _HONK!_. We did a production of it, now a little over a year ago, at school, and yes, I did play the same character as the girl they talk about being obsessed with Troy. You should check it out, it's basically the story of the Ugly Duckling. And the cat character, _hilarious._

Now, this story started out as Ryan centric, basically, because I realized in every story he's in he's either extremely emo, extremely unaccpeted by everyone, or just an observer. Now, I'm not saying there might not be any of this in here, but I'm kind of expanding this farther to include a little more of the Troy-Ryan friendship (it's JUST friendship, people.) And catchastar will have to cry because...no ChadKelsi in this story like my others lol

Ok, you don't want to here me talk anymore. Read the next chapter and review, my darlings, if you will.

And please don't put this down because it's not very canon, I really don't give a crap anymore.


	2. That's What You Get: A New Girl

AN: Ok, here's Chapter 2.

* * *

"Hey, Mrs. Simmons," he greeted East High's favorite secretary, laying his books on her desk. "How are you today?"

"I'm good, Ryan," said the small woman in glasses. "And yourself?"

"I'm doing good," he answered. "And how's your husband?"

"He's good," she said. "He'll be giving you a call pretty soon. I gave him your resume, he's very impressed."

"_Really_," he said enthusiastically. "That's great."

"Yes, sir, it is. You've heard how high his standards are," Mrs. Simmons mentioned casually, "but no need for me to bore you with college talk. How can I help you?

"Well, it's come to my attention we've received some new students."

"Yes, we have," she said. "Let me guess, you were the first one Mr. Durb could find."

"Troy and me both, but yeah," Ryan laughed.

"Well, the senior just left, so Mr. Bolton will have to track her down," Mrs. Simmons said, "but the other just came out of the office and is waiting for you."

She motioned to the row of chairs behind Ryan. Ryan turned and looked to see a tall, blonde girl he hadn't noticed when he walked in.

"Miss Jenkins," Miss Simmons said, "this is Ryan Evans, one of our student reps. He'll be showing you around the school today. Mr. Evans you know the drill."

"_Why does every one keep saying that to me_?" Ryan thought.

"So, your name's Olivia," he asked the girl as she followed him out into the commons.

"Crisa, actually," she said. "I prefer Crisa."

"What is that, like a nickname?" he asked.

"Something like that," Crisa said, looking Ryan up and down.

"What?" Ryan stopped.

"Nothing," she said, "just…huh."

"What?" he asked again.

"Nothing. Just…what's with the getup?" Crisa said, pointing at his pink shirt.

Ryan looked down at himself. He was also wearing white dress pants and a fedora hat that matched his pink shirt and dancing shoes. It occurred to him that this girl, who was standing there comfortably in a t-shirt and cargo pants, was probably not familiar with the performer style that was forced upon him. After all, no one really was.

"Oh," he said. "Don't ask. It's my sister. She's always trying to make sure our outfits are coordinated."

She looked at him curiously.

"It actually could've been a lot worse today," he continued. "She was gonna wear her one of her floral print dresses which meant I was going to have to wear something similar. Thank goodness she decided that her skin wasn't in the right condition to pull off blues and greens, or else I'd be standing here with an even gayer outfit on."

"Really…" she said, scanning with her eyes in suspicion. "Huh."

"What?"

"Nothing," Crisa said, stifling a giggle. "You said it, not me." Ryan just laughed right along with her. After all, she had a nice laugh. Pleasant was all he could say. Not fake.

"Let me guess," she said then. "You're twins, and she came out first."

"Ummm…yeah, actually."

"Huh," she said, continuing down the hall.

Ryan hastily followed after her.

"Wait," he said quickly. "How did you know that?"

"I just do."

"How? Are you a stalker?" he asked, half-jokingly.

Crisa smiled.

"It's my secret."

"Well then, tell me," Ryan asked. "Please?"

She held her smile while she stared him in the eye, probably trying to detect if he was serious or not.

"Ok," she said, "well, when you've been in the foster care system as long as I have, you tend to become an expert this kind of thing."

"What kind of thing?"

"Reading people," Crisa said. "Knowing their subtext after just a few minutes. I can usually tell if a new set of parents is going to last within the first day."

"You're a foster child?" Ryan inquired.

"Yeah."

"Bet that's interesting."

"Not really," she said, casting her eyes down.

"So, I'm guessing that's why you're just now starting school here," Ryan said, trying to keep the conversation going. He didn't want to hit an awkward silence..

"Sort of," she obliged. "My new foster sister got kicked out of the boarding school her parents were going to send me to next quarter. When they placed her in public school, they decided to do the same with me."

"Do you two get along?"

She scoffed. "You kidding me."

Ryan laughed too.

"Yeah, I know that feeling," he agreed. "My sister and I, like oil and water."

"Oh really."

"Yeah," Ryan laughed. "She's pretty self-centered. Always trying to control me. Pretty interesting character, though."

"Well, she's obviously a little successful at controlling," Crisa commented.

"What do you mean by that?" Ryan asked.

"I mean, you just got done saying that she always trying to make you dress like her," she stated. "You can't tell me you comply to that willingly."

"Well, no," he admitted, "but you have to understand that, me and her, we're a team."

"A team?" she asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Yeah, we perform together. All the musicals and plays and whatnot around here. We've been doing them together since before I can remember."

"Ok, well, if you have no problem with this arrangement you guys have," Crisa said, "then why did you just like basically can't stand her?"

"Well, I didn't say we always see eye-to-eye on everything."

"So, she get's her way a lot?"

"Yeah, but she's— persuasive," he said, meaning that she could pitch a fit better than anyone he knew.

"Do you really feel like she cares about what you think?"

"Well, no. Not really, but— Stop being a whole Inquisitorial Squad over here."

"Hey," she said, putting her hands up in defense, "you're the one answering your own questions."

He opened his mouth to defend himself, but realized that she was completely right.

"How," he said slowly, "did you get me to say all that?"

"I don't know," Crisa said. "I seem to have that effect on people."

She smiled a quirky smile.

"Wait," he said, stopping her.

"What?" Crisa said, pulling back.

He forgot what he was going to say. For about the second time that morning, he took a long hard look at the girl standing next to him. She had dark blonde hair, obviously never touched by a colorist; She was dressed for comfort, not impression like some people he knew; She was tall enough for it to be prominent, but that's not what was intimidating so about her. She had dark green eyes that had the effect of glowing yellow around the middle. Now whether they did that normally or if it was just the way the light was hitting them, Ryan didn't know, but they were almost boring into him. She might've seemed ordinary to anyone else, but for a second Ryan was just squirming in his shoes.

Ryan. The guy who could probably perform in front of an entire arena of people, and not hit a single wrong note. Ryan, the guy who had dealt with the Ice Queen all his life, and who was used to receiving death glares when a female wasn't happy. He'd been though every kind of hardcore dance teacher, over-dramatic acting coach. Put through theatre hell by Mrs. Darbus, and survived time and time again. He knew how to stand his ground.

But a cord in him had been struck with this girl placed in front of him.

"You seem a tad bit cocky about you're little talent," he said.

"Not entirely something to brag about," she answered, "but I've just seen a lot."

"Yeah, but you haven't seen me," he defended himself. "You don't know me."

"I never said I did," Crisa said, picking up her walk again, possibly trying to flee the situation. "I just call them as I see them."

"Yeah, well please don't try to 'call' me. There's more to me than you know."

"Oh really?"

"Yes," he said firmly.

"Alright," she shrugged.

"What?" Ryan said, kind of shocked.

"Alright. I get it. I can understand when a person doesn't want to be intruded upon on personal matters."

"Yeah, obviously," Ryan let slither out of his mouth.

"What?" Crisa asked incredulously, passing the cafeteria.

"You don't want anything to be known about you're personal matters."

"What do you mean?"

"In the past fifteen minutes that I've known you we've already dissected my life, and made me realize that I have a really fucked up relationship with some people. But you, oh you, we've found out nothing. Except your living situation, random telepathic ability, and really weird way of being addressed."

"And you know what," Crisa said, stepping up to his face. "It's gonna stay that way."

"Hey, if that's your prerogative," Ryan said, "far be it from me to object."

She held his gaze for a little bit before casting her eyes down and walking away down the hall. She had no idea were she was going, she just knew it was time to walk away.

Ryan gazed up at the clock hanging on the wall. The bell was going to ring in two minutes. He was right outside Mr. Barcus's, the class he was supposed to be in at that very moment. He could either go in, give his excuse for not being in class, then enjoy the rest of the day knowing he had another day to study for his quiz.

Or, he could run down the hall, finish that job that he'd been assigned, and maybe not feel entirely horrible about some of the words and things that had gone down between him and his ward. The clocked ticked another minute.


End file.
